Gandalf's Early Days
by biggstrek
Summary: Gandalf's early adventures in Middles Earth. Follows the wizard as he travels about in search of, well, anything he can find! Insane, mad, crazy, ludicrous: words that describe my car. Does anyone read this? Spin-off of Sauron's Throne.
1. The Early Days

Gandalf ran into the bushes, lifted his robes and squatted down. _This is a great way to start an adventure_, he thought to himself sarcastically. His stomach rumbled. _That's the last time I eat curry in Mordor. God knows what they put in it! _Disgusting sounds ensued, accompanied by equally disgusting smells. _I could really do with that Throne about now._

Having just returned from a holiday overseas, Gandalf had visited his old buddy, Sauron of Mordor. But now he was calling himself the Dark Lord Sauron (on his Dark Throne) and had forged himself a nice, shiny new Ring. How pretentious! _I leave him alone for a few centuries and look what happens!_ he thought.

Having completed his natural, but disgusting task, Gandalf stood up, pushed his robes back into place, and resumed his travels through Middle Earth. Approaching a fork in the road, he consulted the map Sauron had given him. All along the edge of the hand drawn parchment were little flowers and smiling faces. Sauron wasn't quite the same as he was in magic school when he and Gandalf had shared a room. The guy was nuts!

The directions said head west, so he took the left path (which was as close to west as he could tell) and continued on. The wizard pulled out his pipe and a pouch of leaf and started patting down his robes, looking for a lighter. _Oh right, they don't exist in this world_, he thought. _Wish I had a Ring like Sauron's, it looked pretty cool._ And the wizard laughed to himself. It was quite an evil sound. _Soon, Gandy old boy, soon..._

Gandalf managed to make fire the old fashioned way (rubbing two squirrels together really fast) and lit up. Taking a long, inhuman drag, the wizard's eyes glazed over and he staggered on along the path.

"That's good stuff, man," he said to himself out loud.

"What is?" came a voice out of nowhere, scaring the bejesus out of Gandalf.

"Who, what, where?" cried the wizard in apparent confusion.

Out from a hedge came a small, hairy footed creature of about half a man's height. Some would say he was a 'halfling', but Gandalf saw him as a 'short-arse'.

"Oh, it's you, Dingo," said Gandalf, recognizing the tiny creature.

Dingo Braggins, the short-arse (actually, he preferred the term 'hobbit', but no-one else had heard of them at this time) shot the wizard a dirty look, spying the pipe in Gandalf's mouth.

"So that's what's so good, huh?" he accused the tall wizard. "That's my leaf, you know. You didn't pay for it."

Gandalf looked down at the little critter, stood as tall as he could and boomed in an imposing wizard-like manner, "A Wizard never steals, Master Braggins. A Wizard takes precisely what he wants to take!"

The two eyed each other for a few seconds, then both burst into laughter. "Gandalf, you silly old coot, where have you been?!" Dingo asked.

"I've been to Mordor, visiting a Queen," he replied in poor rhyme.

Dingo gave him a look and asked, "Queen?"

"Well, not really, but it's the best I could come up with that rhymed."

Dingo gave him another look. "Don't give up your day job." He shook his head in disbelief. The wizard and short-arse continued on the path and Dingo asked, "So, where are we going now?"

Gandalf smirked evilly, "I'm gunna get me a nice magic ring: Narya, the Ring of Fire." But his evil chuckling was cut short by another rumbling in his stomach. He quickly passed his pipe to Dingo and fled into the bushes once more.

Dingo, trying not to listen (or smell!) the actions of Gandalf in the verge, laughed at him. "Sounds like you already _have_ a Ring of Fire!"

Gandalf groaned in reply. _Yep, a great way to start an adventure_, he thought_. Food poisoning and a smart-ass comedian.  
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_-o-  
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_A/N: This continues on in the same tradition as Sauron's Throne (which, if you find this at all funnny, you should also enjoy) being set around the time of the forging of the One Ring. You don't HAVE to read Sauron's Throne, but you really, really should. :) Those that HAVE read it know what I mean (I hope!)  
_

_I have no real idea where this story is going, apart from the first little adventure where Gandalf gets his own Ring. (And I'm not even sure how THAT will happen!) It could go anywhere... and probably will! So buckle up, and hang on to your lunch!  
_

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	2. Grand Theft Cart

_**Chapter 2 – Grand Theft Cart**_

"Okay, Dingo. See that horse and cart over there? Go steal it," ordered Gandalf to his small companion.

Dingo looked up at the tall wizard and scowled, "You're going to give us short-, I mean, 'hobbits' a reputation as thieves and burglars if you keep getting me to steal things for you. And besides, why can't you do it? You _are_ the almighty wizard, afterall. Surely you can conjure something out of a hat?"

"Yes, _I'm_ the wizard and _you_ are my trusty side-kick. My job is to manipulate the peoples of Middle Earth by surreptitious means, and your job is to steal that horse and cart and whatever takes my fancy. Now move!" And with that, the wizard shoved the little creature out from the bushes in which they both hid towards the currently unattended horse and small cart.

So Dingo stealthily tripped his way over the intervening tufts of weeds and small rocks. Amazingly, he managed to reach the cart without detection and climbed up its tall (to him) side and slid into the front seat. Looking about at the cart and the attached horse, he said to himself, "How do I start this thing?"

From his hiding place, Gandalf watched on in frustration. _Amateur_, he thought to himself. "Grab the reins and go 'tchk tchk'!" he shouted quietly - if that's possible.

"Oh, its a _manual!_" said the hobbit. Dingo grabbed the reins and made the sounds Gandalf suggested. "Tchk tchk," he went. _Must be horse-talk for 'engage first gear' or something_, he thought. The horse immediately pricked up its ears, brayed like a donkey and shot off into the distance.

Watching from behind, Gandalf laughed evilly to himself. "Good one!" he congratulated himself.

Diminishing into the distance, Dingo could be heard saying, "Stop! Halt! Desist! Disengage forward momentum! Mummy!"

Gandalf stepped out onto the road, smiling. But the smile was quickly wiped from his lips as his stomach churned. "Oh no, not again!" And the wizard ran back into the bushes once more.

Some time later, Gandalf met up with Dingo again. The little hobbit was sitting on the side of the road, rubbing a sore spot on his butt cheek. Gandalf, too, was rubbing his own buttocks. The hobbit said, "Curry got you again?" The wizard nodded. ""Yeah, well I fell off that damn cart! And look! It stopped ten yards after I fell off. Every time I go to get on it again, the horse walks forward. Eventually I gave up."

"I know," said the wizard, "I told him to."

"What?"

But Gandalf didn't answer and just went up to the horse and cart, stepped up onto it and sat himself gingerly onto the seat, lifting the reins.

"You mean the cart is yours?" asked the hobbit incredulously.

"Yep. Good joke, don't you think? I parked the horse here when I went to Mordor. It's a bad area over there and I didn't want any scratches in the paintwork or have some orc bend the aerial. When we came back to it, I thought I'd play a little game on you!"

"Why you little &$#$!"

Gandalf looked shocked at the hobbit. "I didn't know you knew the Mordor Black Speech!"

"You're a (&(&$$!" insisted the hobbit.

"A what?" asked the wizard.

"A damn (&$! with a &$$# in your &!" he said for good measure.

"Yeah? Yo momma..." retorted Gandalf in street fashion.

"I'll 'yo momma' you right up the &##$#!" threatened Dingo.

"Promises, promises," laughed Gandalf. "You getting in or what?"

Muttering under his breath, Dingo scrambled onto the cart again and sat sullenly beside the wizard. Gandalf clucked his tongue and the horse walked forward down the narrow path. The hobbit didn't utter another word for a long time. Only when the cart was jostled as it ran over a small fallen branch did he and Gandalf both say in unison:

"Ouch!"


	3. At The Sign Of The Dancing Fairy

_**Chapter 3 – At The Sign Of The Dancing Fairy**_

A dishevelled piece of string walked into the bar. The bartender asked, "Are you a piece of string?"

The string shook his head and said, "Frayed knot."

_(pause for hysteric laughter to die down... perhaps)_

_(Hang on, let me start again.)_

A wizard and a hobbit walked into the bar. The bartender said, "We don't serve their kind in here!"

"Who?" asked the wizard.

"Your droids, they'll have to wait outside," demanded the burly unshaven barkeep.

The hobbit Dingo looked up at Gandalf the wizard, "What's a droid?"

"I have no idea... I think the author is running out of ideas." But Gandalf turned around and yes, indeed, two metallic creatures had followed them into the bar. The tall golden humanoid one said:

"Oh my, he's not a very friendly fellow, is he Artoo?"

His squat companion, half his height and looking more like a garbage can on wheels, whistled and beeped in agreement. "Whistle, beep," he said.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," said Threepio (of course!).

With that, the two droids turned about and left the bar.

The barkeeper asked Gandalf and Dingo, "What can I get your guys?"

Dingo said, "Can I have Typhoid Mary?"

The barkeep looked at him a moment and said, "What's a Typhoid Mary?"

"That's a Bloody Mary in a dirty glass," explained the hobbit.

"We don't serve drinks in dirty glasses," said the barkeeper.

"Why not? You did last week!" came the witty reply of Dingo.

Gandalf smacked the hobbit across the head. "Enough with the stupid jokes. We'll have a pint each," and he threw some coins onto the bar.

Thirty minutes later, the inn keeper returned with their drinks: two warm ales. Yuck! They took them and went to a table at the rear of the bar. Each tasted the beer and managed to keep it down without gagging too much. As they settled in, a young serving girl in a tight white t-shirt and even tighter orange shorts giggled her way to the table. "Welcome to Hooters!" she greeted them.

"Hooters?!" the wizard and hobbit shouted in surprise and obvious delight.

"No, not really," said the girl, who suddenly transformed into a large, ugly woman of about seventy years age. "That'd be the beer talking. I really should get my husband to filter the bigger chunks out of it. A lot of people start 'seeing things' after they drink it."

"Oh..." said the two in equally obvious disappointment.

"Can I get you guys something to eat? We have a nice curry-" she started to offer, but Gandalf visibly blanched, held his mouth and ran for the bathroom. "What's wrong with him?" she asked Dingo.

"No idea," lied Dingo. "He'll have a large serving of curry. Extra spicy." And Dingo laughed to himself as the serving woman walked away. _That'll teach him_, he thought evilly.

As Dingo sat their alone, sipping his warm ale, the door to the bar opened again and in walked Elrond Half-elven. He approached the hobbit and stood over him imposingly. "Mr Anderson," he said, "We meet at last."

"No, no, I'm Dingo Braggins. You're Elrond, aren't you? I'm a big fan! Can I have your autograph?"

Elrond took off his sunglasses, pulled the earphone from his ear and sighed. "Sure kid, why not." He sat down, dutifully signed Dingo's autograph book and slumped in his chair.

"Thanks, Mr Elrond!"

"No worries, kid." Spying the second beer on the table, Elrond asked, "Where's your friend?"

"He's indisposed, but he should be back shortly." With that, Gandalf re-entered the room and approached the table.

Elrond stood up, put his sunglasses back on and plugged in the earphone. "Mr Anderson. We meet at last!" he said.

"Elrond?" asked Gandalf.

"Gandalf?" replied the half-elf in return. "Long time no see." Elrond took off his glasses again. "I heard you were in town. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Me and Dingo here are en route to get hold of a Ring of Power. Sauron - you remember him, don't you? - told me he gave one to Cirdan the shipwright. I'm going to see if I can't _persuade_ him to give it to me."

Elrond's long pointy ears _poinged_ upwards. _Poing!_

"A Ring of Power! I wouldn't mind getting one of those!" exclaimed the half-elf. "Any chance I could tag along?"

Gandalf looked at Elrond a moment and said, "Okay, but Cirdan's Ring is mine. You'll have to get your own. In fact, I'm pretty sure I know where you could get another one."

"Yes?" asked Elrond hopefully.

"Sauron had a party recently and invited three elves, some men and dwarves along. You remember his _thing_ for Galadriel?" Elrond nodded his head; everyone knew Sauron had had a crush on Galadriel for decades. "Well, she was invited, of course, but she brought her _husband_ with her!" Elrond and Gandalf laughed together. "I know, I know. I wish I'd been there to see his face!" And Gandalf wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Anyway, they all got Rings as presents..."

"So Celeborn's got a Ring?" deduced Elrond.

"Exactly," confirmed the wizard. And the half-elf and wizard laughed again.

Dingo spoke up, "What's so funny?"

Gandalf looked at his small travelling companion. "Celeborn is the biggest loser of all time. He can barely tie his own shoelaces. The best thing he ever did was marry Galadriel. But we know who wears the pants in that family, don't we Elrond!" And the two laughed again, giving each other a high-five.

Looking at the laughing pair, he checked out their clothing. Both were wrapped in robes and wearing sandals. "I think I'm the only one who wears pants in this story," he said.

Just as Gandalf was about to rebuff the hobbit, the serving woman returned with a plate of hot, stinky curry - extra spicy. She placed it on the table in front of Gandalf and it slopped noisily before him. In return, the wizard's stomach churned and he retched involuntarily. Without a word, he put a hand over his mouth and ran to the bathroom once more.

Dingo laughed uproariously

In the confusion, Elrond stood up and approached the serving woman, "Mr Anderson. We meet at last..."

"Nope, wrong person, bud," she said, walking off.

"Oh bugger," cursed Elrond, sitting down again and taking off the sunglasses he'd quickly donned.

Dingo looked at Elrond and asked, "What's up with you and this Anderson guy?"

"Don't ask," he replied.


	4. Special Guest Directors

_**Chapter 4 – Special Guest Directors**_

_(Welcome to the Special Guest Director chapter of Gandalf's Early Years. First up, please give a nice warm welcome to Quentin Tarantino, director if such films as Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs. He has graciously agreed to start us off. Over to you, Quentin!)_

Gandalf and Elrond sat together as the half-elf drove the cart down the dusty road approaching the Grey Havens, with Dingo bouncing about in the rear. They were heading to where Cirdan the elven Shipwright lived. He had something the wizard wanted: Narya, the Ring of Fire.

They were still a few minutes away, so Gandalf decided to make some idle conversation.

"When I was on vacation overseas, I noticed some little differences."

"Like what?" asked Elrond, concentrating on the road ahead.

"Well, you know what they call a quarter pounder with cheese?"

"No, what do they call a quarter pounder with cheese?" asked Elrond dutifully.

"A Royale with cheese."

"Really? Why don't they just call it a quarter pounder?"

Gandalf responded, "I think it's because they have the metric system. No 'pounds'."

Dingo, listening to the odd exchange, asked, "What's the metric system? And what's a quarter pounder?"

Gandalf turned in his seat, dislodging his staff that was tucked under his arm. Just as he was about to speak, they ran over a pot hole in the road and the staff lit up brightly and a beam of light lanced out from the gnarled end and went hurtling at the hobbit. Unfortunately for our short hairy friend, his head exploded in a bloody release of brains, skull and tissue.

"Oh man!" cried Elrond. "Look what you've gone and done!"

Gandalf turned back to Elrond and said, "It was an accident! If you could drive better, we wouldn't have hobbit brains all over my cart!"

_(Okay, okay, thank you Mr Tarantino! That's more than enough violence for one chapter. Who's next? Oh yes, one of my personal favourites, M. Night Shyamalan, writer and director of the brilliant films, The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Signs and The Village. Mr M. - what the hell does the 'M' stand for? - please, continue.)_

Gandalf and Elrond approached the residence of Cirdan. At the door, they stood silently, watching each other without speaking a word. Finally, the door opened and Cirdan stepped out.

"I see dead people," he said.

"What?" asked Gandalf and Elrond.

"I see dead people. All the time."

"Where?"

"In your cart. That hobbit's dead, isn't he?" he asked, pointing at the bloody cart in the distance.

_(Alrighty then, I guess Mr M. is better on the big screen than in a fan fic. NEXT! -pause- Well, this is a surprise! Mr George Lucas is here! Apparently he has some time off during the production of Star Wars Episode III. He says he wants a shot, so Mr Lucas, do your worst!)_

Cirdan pulls back his cloak, revealing a red and black face, with tiny little horns dotted across his cranium. He pulls out a brightly coloured stick and makes a _fsszzz_ sound as he holds it out before him. As he waves it, he goes _whirrr_, _whirrr_.

"Wipe them out. All of them," he says to himself.

Gandalf pulls out his staff and Elrond grabs a broom leaning against the wall of Cirdan's house. The wizard and elf lord circle the shipwright, eyeing him warily while spinning their weapons gracefully before them.

The shipwright lunges at them, but they manage to beat off his attack and press their own against him. Cunningly, Cirdan pulls out another brightly coloured stick and makes another assault.

"Gandalf, I am your father!" he says.

"What? Nooooo!"

_(Oh no you don't, not again. And by the way, George, it looks like you've run out of money for your special effects. Now, who else can I make up... I mean, invite to take over the chapter? I know, the amazing Shantazzar, author of 'LOTR From The Nazgul Eyes'! Give it a try, dude!)_

Nine F-16's fly by over head, strafing the ground. From the last jet a voice can be heard, "I think I spilled my coffee!"

Jet number five, piloted by the Nazgul everyone loves to call Larry, says, "You and your coffee, _Kenneth_."

"Cut the chatter, you two," interjected the voice of the Witch King in jet number one. But even he was drowned out as Death himself broadcast across the waves:

"What about best out of three?"

(Maybe not. Thanks anyway, Shantazzar - by the way, check out his great fics on this same site. Finally, I think I'll hand the reins over to... ME!)

As the crowd of extra writers and directors dispersed, Cirdan, Elrond and Gandalf were left alone at the shipwright's house and workshop. They each looked at each other, sizing each other up. Eventually, Cirdan asked:

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure," they answered and followed him into the building. They settled into some nice cosy chairs and enjoyed some nice herbal tea that Cirdan poured for them.

"Now," said Cirdan, "What do you fellows want?"

"Your Ring," stated Gandalf, bluntly.

"Okay. Anything else?"

"What? You're just going to give it to me?"

"Sure, why not?"

Gandalf shook his head. "Cool." But as Gandalf reached out a hand to take Cirdan's Ring, Elrond spoke up.

"Can I have it?" he asked.

"Um, okay. Why not!" said the shipwright who then leant over towards Elrond, offering the Ring.

"No, no! It's mine!" pleaded Gandalf.

"I'll give you twenty gold coins for it," offered the cunning half-elf.

Cirdan sat back, toying his Ring, considering Elrond's offer. "And what would you pay me for it?" he asked Gandalf.

"What is this, an auction? Okay, okay. I'll give you fifty," offered the wizard.

"One hundred," countered Elrond, a little smug smile crossing his lips. He watched Gandalf open his mouth to up the offer, but quickly added, "Curry..."

And amazingly, Gandalf's stomach churned loudly and his face paled. "You bastard," he said and ran swiftly from the room.

"Too easy. Okay, Cirdan, I'll take the Ring now," and Elrond produced a pouch of gold and passed it to the elf, who in turn gave Elrond the Narya, the Ring of Fire.

"Nice doing business with you," said Cirdan.

"A pleasure, indeed," replied Elrond, standing up and leaving Cirdan's abode.

_That should screw up Gandalf's plans,_ thought Elrond. _I never did like him._


End file.
